


Gasoline

by psuedopoetic



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Implied/Referenced Torture, Other, idk what this is, max and el are a couple, of BESTIES
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:20:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psuedopoetic/pseuds/psuedopoetic
Summary: "What is he?""A hobo," Dustin answered pointedly."I think he's a—"The man moved and they all let out a scream, flattening against the cabin walls.Or: they find a man sleeping in Hopper's cabin with a suspicious accent and a metal arm.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler (past), Jim Hopper/Joyce Byers (past), Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Max Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 14
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the cabin has an unknown resident

Since the Battle of Starcourt, as everyone was calling it, El hadn't felt particularly the same. She was staying with Mrs. Byers—Joyce, she was to be called Joyce—and Will, but in a new house a bit farther from town than their old one, but still in the town of Hawkins.

They'd nearly moved out of town, but at the last minute, their destination was changed. Joyce thought it'd be smarter to keep Will and El in Hawkins, and El agreed, because they knew nothing about her powers or why they were gone. Maybe, if they stayed in Hawkins, they would come back.

It was touch and go, but so far, she could crumple a piece of paper. That was all, but it was a start.

She felt like a small child and it was terrifying, more than facing the Mindflayer.

Mike was there for her, and she wasn't sure what they were. Boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends? El felt like she should care more than she did, but she didn't. The terms meant nothing to her, not as much as they meant to him.

But she and Will were friends, that was okay. She and Max were friends—best friends, as she said, gal pals. Once she was someone's "girl," but she wasn't anymore.

Her nose scrunched at the thought and Will looked over to her, smiling reassuringly. "I know. How about we go to Hopper's? To get some of your stuff."

The other meaning went unsaid: so you can say goodbye.

El didn't want to say goodbye, but she nodded anyway. She was doing a lot of that. Nodding without thinking, without caring.

"Hey guys," Will announced, "we're gonna go to Hopper's."

Mike's head popped up from the other side of the mound of blankets. "Oh?"

Max's eyebrows were furrowed, pinched together in that expressive way El liked. "You sure, El?"

She simply nodded. 

"Okay, cool, let's go." Eleve didn't expect them to come with, but she kept her face slack, unexpressive.

Everyone slowly clambered away from their discarded movie, not bothering to turn it off. That's how things were now. Careless, done with motions that seemed to be automated, normal things that seemed wrong.

Their group was different than before. Less structured, more hollow. Like someone had scraped too much from inside of them and left them dangerously close to imploding.

Mike didn't walk as close to her as he used to, and Eleven found herself wishing he would. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but the last time she hugged someone was two months before, the night Hopper died when Joyce let her cry into her arms.

She didn't like to be touched too much, but she wished people could see she craved some sort of comfort other than words.

Mike drove them. He was the first out of them to learn how to (properly) drive a car, after his father insisted due to the fact that he'd been driving a car since he was ten-years-old. El wasn't sure how safe it was, but she didn't care, not even as Mike hit potholes and offered a flimsy "shit, whoops" in response.

By the time the car came to a stop, Will looked like a nervous wreck. He hated Mike's driving, said it would kill them all. It might, one day, but that wasn't the issue for today.

The cabin she still thought of as home stood in front of her, looking just as it had before. As if nothing had changed.

But everything had. Hopper wasn't here anymore, he was gone. El lived with the Byers. El was alone even though she was surrounded by people. El and Mike were stuck in something she didn't like. El was always tired.

Why couldn't things stop and let her catch up? Because that would be too easy, too nice, and El deserved harsh, unforgiving events.

"You ready, El?" Max asked, laying a hand on her shoulder, which made the girl flinch horribly.

She nodded shakily, ignoring how everyone had noticed her reaction to the touch. "Yes."

They left the car, the doors shutting softly behind them, and follows behind Max, who was scratching insistently at her wrist. El wanted to tell her to stop, that it was okay, but she didn't. She only followed up to the doorstep until it felt like she couldn't breathe.

"It's okay," Will said, "we're here."

But his voice sounded shaky, too, and El couldn't trust her own not to crack until she broke down. So she stayed silent, following Max in.

The roof wasn't caving in, but it wasn't stable, either. A year or two and it'd be sitting in the living room. There were holes in the walls, the size of El's fists pressed side by side, where the Mindflayer had destroyed the cabin.

But it was still intacted, the cold didn't bother her, and the dozen holes peaking outward didn't bother her, either. Neither did the rain puddles in the corners or the smell of the woods that had started to fall inside. She almost wanted to spend the night, in her old bed, but she knew that wasn't smart. It would be dumb, and El wasn't dumb.

Her room wasn't as damaged as the others, the roof hadn't broken in there. It was caving, but it was okay. Not a single hole, aside from the walls being dented inwards. Things were strewn hazardously, and her bed was knocked sideways, but it was okay. It was still her room.

As she started to gather things into odd bags and boxes, there was a startled, panicked shout from the living room.

"Eleven!" Max. "Get in here! Hurry!"

She tripped over the rug but continued forward, the door to her room slamming against the wall as she skidded in the living room, leaves sliding under her sneakers.

It took her ten seconds to spot what everyone was staring at.

A man, curled into a ball, in the corner of the room, dressed in tactical gear. She could barely make out the weapons on his belt, but she could clearly spot them. Long, ragged hair. He was large, wide shoulders.

Everyone was standing feet away from him with wide eyes, while Eleven stood two feet behind Lucas.

"What is he?"

"A hobo," Dustin answered pointedly. "Look at him, his hair's greasy!"

Lucas shook his head. "I think he's a—"

The man moved and they all let out a scream—aside from El, who sucked in a gasp of air with wide eyes—and they flattened themselves against the cabin walls while she stood in the same spot, eyes narrowed in on the man.

"He's a Russian spy!" Lucas yelled, his voice shrill. "He's come to kill us!"

"And why would he do that?" Max said, trying to keep her voice calm. "Starcourt blew up! They lost!"

"Because we ruined their little machine, duh!"

The man suddenly leaped upward, landing in a defensive position in the corner, eyes wild as he faced them. A knife in hand, a perfect, pointed position. It was almost graceful.

That face. She knew that face. The long, jagged strands of hair falling downward like shards of glass. Hard jawline, defensive blue eyes, lips pulled back into a snarl.

The Winter Soldier. That's what he was called. She had to spy on him, Papa's orders. The memory came flooded back along with the amount of information she was given.

"Get back!" she yelled, her voice cracking dangerously. "Get back!"

Everyone stumbled over discarded things, hurriedly falling back towards El.

"What is it?" Mike questioned quickly. "Who is he? Is he from the Lab?"

"He's—he's an assassin," she said, eyes still watching the man. "The Winter Soldier. A weapon that could tear down an entire country in a matter of hours. He was a weapon used by many—but by Soviets." She shuddered as his eyes zeroed in on her. "Highest kill streak known to record. Enough strength in one hand to crush a spinal chord."

She took a shaky breath as his head cocked to the side, studying her.

"We don't want to hurt you," she said, trying to convince him. "We are not Bad Men."

His eyebrows furrowed and his lips flickered into a snarl.

"We help," El said with a nod. "Help."

The man continued to stare, unmoving as tension grew.

"Soldat," she tried. Within seconds, his back shot ramrod straight, the knife hung in his hand by his side, and he stood staring.

His face twitched and he shook his head, letting out a distressed sound. "S-Stop," he whispered, backing into the corner. "Stop!"

"Okay." Eleven held her hands up in the air, doing her best to look nice. "Calm."

She took a step forward and Mike grabbed her hand, but she shrugged him off until she stood in the middle of the room. She knew exactly what this man was capable of, that he could kill her within seconds—and the terrible thing was that it didn't bother her. Didn't fill her with fear. It was a blanket over her.

He threw the knife into the air and caught it, baring his teeth anxiously.

"I was like you," she said, tilting her head in that way Hopper always did when she was worked up. She pointed to herself, then to him. "Prisoner."

The tension in his eyebrows fell, his features softening. "Asset?"

She nodded and pointed to her chest. "Asset."

"Eleven," Max whispered fervently.

The man blinked. "Eleven?" Something seemed to dawn on him and he bristled, a soft whirring sound echoing in the air—a metal arm with a red star. "Telepath," he snarled, his foreign accent particularly thick.

"And psychokinetic," Dustin added under his breath, which created an elbow from Lucas.

"Telepath," El said, pointing to herself, the word still foreign to her even after Dustin's long explanations. "Soldier," she said, pointing to him.

His muscles loosened and his lips set into a fine line, another whirring noise emitting from his arm. 

With that, he sat down, muscles still wound tight, but instead his eyes were trained on the ground. The knife was held loosely, but El could tell by the way the blades in his arm shifted he was itching to use it.

"So . . ." Lucas cleared his throat, squirming when the man's eyes shot upward. "What do we do now?"

"Keep him," El answered simply. "H-Hopper's Cabin."

"No," Lucas protested, "we are absolutely not—"

"Keep him," El pushed, her jaw set tight. "Like you did with me."

"Oh, fucking great! We're keeping a Russian soldier in a cabin out in the woods! What could go wrong with that?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> el wonders if her and the winter soldier are the same

El hadn't stopped thinking about the Winter Soldier for two days. It had been two days since they last saw him, when they all decided he would stay in Hopper's cabin after she stuck her foot down and said that they weren't going to turn him in.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she felt connected to him. They were similar. _Yin and yang_ , she remembered Will saying. Was that the right term? It didn't matter, he was like her, and she wouldn't let him suffer anymore.

It was three in the morning, and El had made the executive decision to sneak out to the cabin and see him. She wasn't sure if he had left, but she was going to see if he did. Not knowing was unbearable.

He might have left, but she wasn't so sure. If she was him, she would stay put. Hopper's cabin was his best bet if he escaped from Starcourt.

Had he? The thought made her falter as she realized she didn't know where he came from. What if there was another place like Hawkins Lab or Starcourt, right under their noses?

Her stomach churned numbly at the thought. She remembered her father saying something about other labs, but at the time, she hadn't thought about it in that direction. What if there were more people, just like her? She'd found one before, the likelihood of it being only them was small.

 _011_. Ten numbers before. Ten subjects.

Had the Winter Soldier been a subject? El shook her head. He was Russian, not American.

As the leaves crunched under her feet, her shin knocked into something. El bit her lip, stepping back and shaking her leg as a red line appeared. 

A wire, stretching between two trees, with an empty vegetable can tied to it with a string. It was smart.

She stepped over the wire, wiping her hand across the cut and wiping it onto her shirt. It was hot out, making her break out in a sweat despite wearing Joyce's loose t-shirt and pajama shorts.

El wished she had put on shoes, her feet were starting to hurt. As acclimated as she had become to "normal" life, the idea of always putting on shoes before leaving the house was still odd.

After all, there had only been a "house" for two years. For most of her life she hadn't worn shoes or proper clothes.

Fuck shoes, they were uncomfortable.

She walked up onto the porch, the wood creaking under her feet. Leaves were everywhere.

Hopper used to get her up early in the morning, earlier than she woke up, and they would sweep every inch of the porch and clean the roof off.

It looked terrible. No amount of sweeping could fix this, not with a tree branch through Hopper's bed. 

The door was shut, but with one push it opened. The doorknob must have broken. She didn't speak, she didn't call out, she simply walked to the middle of the living room and stood, waiting.

If he was here, he would come out, or he wouldn't. If he wasn't here, he wasn't.

All El needed to know was _why_. Why he was here, why him, why after Starcourt and the Mindflayer. She knew she would never get those answers, but this would be as much as knowing all the answers.

A floorboard creaked, and El turned to see the Winter Soldier walking out from behind the sofa, the moon making his arm seem blinding.

"Hi."

He didn't say anything.

The roof creaked and El wondered absentmindedly if it would fall and trap them inside.

"Blood," the man stated, looking to her shin. "The wire?"

"The wire," El confirmed, not bothering to wipe at it again. "It's smart, but you can see it." She shifted her weight to her right foot. "Fishing line, that's what Hopper used."

The Winter Soldier seemed anxious by that. "Hopper?"

"He's—he's gone," El said, a lump forming in her throat. "This is his cabin. His _home_."

It was silent before she spoke again. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

El shouldered off the cloth bag on her shoulders to take out a handful of protein bars she'd taken from the Byers' kitchen. 

The Winter Soldier eyed them, his lip twitching. El didn't doubt that he was eating, but she didn't believe he was eating properly.

She threw one, which he caught in record time, before throwing the other three. El couldn't help but be awestruck at the precision in his movements.

He unwrapped one, eyeing it, and the message was clear.

"It's safe," she said. "I eat them."

He stood there for another second, his metal arm whirring before he took a bite. El looked away as he ate. Hopper always said it was rude to stare while people were eating. She was sure he only said that because she didn't blink.

El found that she missed most social norms. Mike was understanding, but she liked Max more. Max didn't care if she missed a cue or if she didn't speak for hours. Max liked her company.

"Why are you smiling?"

El's head snapped up to the man, whose eyebrows were furrowed questioningly. "I was thinking of a friend." The man didn't ask, nor did she expect him to, but she continued. "Her name is Max."

He let out a 'hmph.' He didn't speak much.

"I brought this," El said, bringing out a blanket from the bag. "A blanket helps."

"Helps?"

"You sleep better," she said. "Like a hug."

"Dangerous," was all he said. "They limit movement."

She sat down on the ground, her legs spread out in that way she saw the girls at the mall do. "They are."

She had the same thoughts. The first time Mike gave her a blanket, she'd panicked when her foot got wrapped in it. After that she refused to use one, up until Hopper convinced her that it was okay to have vulnerability.

That was one thing she could never understand. Everyone was so vulnerable. They cried, they talked, they did whatever they wanted to without thinking of the consequence. Every time El did something, there was a nagging voice in the back of her head.

El wondered if the Winter Soldier had one, too, and if his made him feel sick.

She held out the blanket wordlessly. Cautiously, the man stepped forward, and with one hasty movement, he snatched the blanket out of her hand.

El should be more scared of him. He could kill her in less than five seconds in the most painful ways imaginable. She found herself not caring.

"I have to go." The sun was starting to come out. "Will you stay?"

The man didn't answer, but it was clear what he meant. He didn't know, and if he did, he wouldn't tell her.

But he didn't know where he was going, or if he would leave anytime soon.

"I'll come back tomorrow," El said as she stood. "I'll bring food." She noticed that he was still wearing the same suit as before. "And clothes."

He might not be there when she came back, but it was nice to talk to him. She didn't know why, but it made her feel as if she had another friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this makes sense? and, hopefully, these will get longer, but it felt right to end the chapter here. and do y'all like el's point of view? i've never written from her's, but it's actually really fun


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> max meets the winter soldier

El was surprised when Max showed up at the Byers' house. Joyce had left for work, as did Jonathan, and Will had been at school for hours. 

"School?"

Max shook her head, plopping down on the couch. "No one really cares, the teachers give me an excuse because—" Max didn't finish, but she didn't have to. El could tell it was hard for the girl, because she missed Billy and was grieving him, yet she hated him and morbidly felt glad he was dead. El understood that feeling.

"Why are you packing a bag?"

El's eyes widened and she held the old book bag behind her back. "School."

Max rolled her eyes with a smile. "El, I know you're going to see the Soldier. That's why I came here."

"You know?"

"Of course, I knew you'd go." She sat up on the couch to face her. "And I know if I told you to stop, you wouldn't. So I'm going with you."

El frowned.

"I just want to make sure nothing happens." Max's eyes flickered over to the bag. "What's in the bag?"

El handed it over and Max went through it, rummaging in it in that abrasive way she always did things.

"First, you need clothes," Max suggested.

"Jonathan's won't fit." El sat down on the couch. "Will's wont."

"Don't worry, I brought some of my step dad's." She shrugged, looking nervous. "Hopefully he won't notice. But you also need a toothbrush and toothpaste. I mean it in the nicest way, but his breath is probably _terrible_."

El shrugged. "We've never gotten close."

"It's been three weeks?"

"He's scared." El put everything back into the bag, now with Max's step dad's clothes. "But he sits near me now. He sat on the couch beside me."

"That couch is like six feet long."

El sighed. "He sits now. He talks. Before he only stared."

"Does he still have a gun?" Max abruptly asked.

"He sleeps with it. I haven't seen him without it."

The redhead groaned. "That's just great. I'm gonna get shot by a commie before I even—" She looked over to El with slightly wide eyes. " _So_ , you and Mike?"

"No," she answered. "We're not . . . not together. He doesn't like me anymore."

Max shrugged. "I wouldn't say that, but you're right." She looked over to El. "Don't tell him I said this, but Mike _sucks_."

El blinked at that. "He doesn't."

"No, not like he's the worst person in the world. He's just . . . oblivious, sometimes. He doesn't notice things, and he just makes you do things you don't want to. Like when It was here, he kept raving about how he loved you 'n shit. But he doesn't even know your favorite color!"

"I don't have a favorite color."

"Blue," Max stated. "The kind when it's been a clear sky for days and there's only those wispy clouds. _Robin's egg_ , I think. And you like it because you like the sky, but you like it when there's no rain or thunder."

El could read between the lines. _You like the sky because you hadn't seen it until a few years ago_. _You like it that color because rain reminds you of when you ran and thunderstorms scare you_.

"I do like blue."

"Exactly! And Mike thinks you like yellow, which isn't true, because I remember you nearly freaked over that scrunchie I gave you a few months ago."

Maybe Max was her best friend. She'd thought it was Mike, maybe Will, but neither of them knew her favorite color, or that rain made her want to cry, or that yellow reminded her of how she killed the first person who was kind to her. And she knew that Max liked whipped cream on her waffles even though it tasted terrible, and that she could dance better than anyone she'd ever seen, and that Max said she didn't care about her hair, even though she would critique herself for minutes in the mirror.

"Are we going? Or we can just watch a movie."

El shook her head. "I told him I'd bring something other than cereal today. He's starting to get weak."

"He looked like a tank."

"He's . . . different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know," El said, "but he's stronger. Faster. If he doesn't eat, he gets sick." She sighed. "But food makes him sick. He eats, and he's sick."

Max zipped the bag shut. "Will likes that girly applesauce, I'll bring that."

"Why?"

"I used to have this cousin, Maury," Max said. "She was sick, and the doctors made her eat from a tube. But when she got better, she couldn't eat anything solid."

El scrunched her nose at that. "Why?"

"'Cause she was—I can't remember the name." Max stood. "But my mom told me about some friend of her dad's in World War Two, he was a POW and got fed through a tube. Maybe it's the same with this guy, but Russian?"

"POW?"

"Prisoner of War," Max elaborated. "Uh, they're hostages. Okay, that doesn't sound right. But they basically are."

"Oh. I think he might be that."

Thirty minutes later, they were standing outside of the cabin, the heavy bag resting on El's shoulders, now with toothpaste and a toothbrush.

"Do we just walk in?"

"No, he likes to knock."

El knocked on the door, still standing there even as it creaked open. No one came forward, making worry pool in her stomach. He had told her he wasn't leaving because he wasn't sure where "they" were, but maybe he had? Maybe he lied, or maybe they came.

She could only move a bike a few feet, she couldn't do anything against anyone.

"Winter?" she called out, stepping forward. "Hello?"

Max jumped back, nearly falling down the steps as he seemed to materialize from thin air on the side of the patio. "Who's she?"

"Max," El said. "My friend."

"The one with frozen lake eyes." He was less unnerved now that he knew it was Max. "Why is she here?"

"She wanted to see who you were." El took the bag off her shoulders and handed it over to him. "She's never met you."

"Well, I did, once," Max said, "but I thought he was gonna blow me up, so it didn't really count."

"I . . . don't kill children." El didn't miss how he didn't sound entirely sure of the fact. "Thank you." As he removed the objects out of the bag, he stilled when he got to a pair of clothes. "Whose are these?"

"They're my step dad's," Max answered. "Don't worry, he doesn't know who you are, he can't hurt you. But they should fit. I was gonna take Billy's but . . . that didn't seem right."

When he didn't ask who Billy was, El knew something wasn't right. Whenever someone or something was mentioned, he always asked, no matter the topic.

"Do you recognize the shirt?" El asked, hoping his memory might be coming back.

"This shield," he said, turning it around to show, "whose is it?"

"Oh! That's Captain America's," Max said, clearly excited at the topic. "My grandpa knew him back in the day, y'know, before he died. My mom has all the newspaper clippings because my grandpa kept them all to remember." She grimaced at that. "He has dementia, he can't remember half the time, so he'll come over to our house and read for hours."

Winter stood, still staring at the shirt with pinched eyebrows, his face blank of emotion yet full of too many.

"Did you know him?" El asked. "Have you seen it before?"

"I—I know this shield, it had a leather strap on the back that kept tearing and they had to fix it every week." He looked back at the symbol. "It hurt when it hit you, it felt like a gunshot."

Max clapped her hands together, wincing as she startled the man. "I have an idea! If you remember the shield that well, you have to've been close to Captain America somehow, or at least in the army. The newspaper clippings have to have something."

He looked up, weary of that idea.

"We can come back tomorrow, I'll bring all the boxes, it'll work."

Winter didn't refuse, which made El nod. "He says yes."

El hoped they found out who he was. Not just for her to get answers, but because she wanted him to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really weird?? i hope this makes sense. but, if things are rough, that's because i haven't edited this before, i always finish a story then go back and edit, because editing while writing makes me lose the will to update. but, what do y'all think about el and winter's 'whatever it is'?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> winter isn't who they expected

Max came early the next morning because it was a Saturday. El doubted even if it was a school day that Max would late until later, lately she hadn't been caring about her grades. Which Will said was stupid, because college wasn't that far away, only three years, and the dips in their grades wouldn't be good.

What about college for El? She was reading books and doing math, but not the kind they were. Hers were books for children that Joyce had given her. She couldn't catch up in time for college. But college was important, according to Will, so shouldn't she go?

But El couldn't. She wasn't smart enough for college.

"Hey! Max, what are you doing here?"

The two girls froze, halting in their packing of a bag as Will stood in the doorway of the room.

"Why's there—why are you packing a bag?" Will's eyes widened. "You told me he was gone!"

Max seemed shocked by that.

"You _lied_ , didn't you?" El didn't speak. "You said friends don't lie."

"He's my friend," El said, refusing to make eye contact. "You lie for friends."

Will went to say something but cut himself off. "Whatever. I'm coming with you guys, he's dangerous."

"He isn't," El insisted, even though she knew he was. "He wouldn't hurt me." _Not intentionally_.

"And Max? Or Mike?"

"He wouldn't hurt Max, he thinks she's nice." El zipped the bag closed. "And Mike isn't coming, I don't want Mike there."

"Who _do_ you want there?"

"Max."

Will looked like he wanted to argue, but he clamped his lips shut and looked down the hall as Jonathan called his name. "You got this, right? You'd tell me if anything was wrong?"

El nodded firmly.

With an antsy shake of his hand, he left, irritatingly telling Jonathan that he was coming.

"Steve would freak if he knew about this," Max said, standing up with an armful of boxes. "He's the biggest Captain America nerd I've ever known. He beats Lucas and Dustin, too, and Dustin named his frog _Captain Frog_."

"Dustin has a frog?"

"Yeah, his mom thought he'd do good with a pet after the whole . . . incident a few months ago. And she got him a frog. Who gets their kid a frog? Those things last a week!"

"Pet frogs can live more than fifteen years," El blankly said, surprising both herself and Max.

"Where'd you learn that?"

"I don't know."

Intrudingly, a memory resurfaced. It was when she was still in Hawkins Lab, being used as a spy, and she was spying on a man who worked for a group called Hydra. He was sitting at home with a child, and El caught the snippet of a fact before the man was shot through the dining room window.

El flinched, her eyes wide. She didn't remember that. Why didn't she remember it? Was she like Winter? Did they wipe _her_ mind, too?

"Hey, El, what's going on?"

"I—I forgot something."

"What? Is it about him?"

"No, it was about someone I saw." El frowned, slinging the bag over her shoulder as she stood. "I forgot it."

Max didn't pressed, but she looked worried as they walked out of El's room. El liked that Max didn't ask too many questions, because if El didn't want to talk, Max didn't make her. Lucas was more of an interrogator, but her rarely cared about El to question things. Dustin pestered curiously, and El knew he cared in his own way, but it made her feel like a lab rat. Will got worried, then frustrated when she didn't answer. Mike pressed until she answered. Hopper would get frustrated and come back two minutes later to apologize with _Eggo's_.

El's throat felt tight at the thought of Hopper. She missed him. A lot. She hadn't ever missed anyone like she missed him. Not her Papa, not Mike—she missed Hopper so much it hurt.

Max's old records said that heartbreak hurt like hell, like a burn, but this wasn't a burn. It was an ache, one in her chest, that panged and caved in. But it didn't. Sometimes she'd be fine, and then she'd see a mug that Hopper would like and it happened again. Why couldn't she be okay? Or move on? It had been four months, and she still didn't talk about Hopper.

Joyce talked about Hopper. Barely, but she did, and then she'd get silent and look away. Max could talk about Billy, she'd sometimes trail off or cut a few words, but she talked about him. Why wasn't it that easy for El? Joyce had known Hopper longer than her, she'd even once cried and said she 'loved' him. Why couldn't El move on? She'd known Hopper for two years, yet it felt like she'd known him half her life.

As they got into the woods that led to Hopper's cabin, El spoke. "Do you miss Billy?"

Max nearly tripped over a log. "What?"

"Do you miss Billy?"

"I . . . I guess I do." The redhead sighed. "He was my step-brother, you know? He wasn't quite my brother, but he was _something_. I didn't like him that much, he was a total dick, but we had some kind of bond. I guess because we both didn't have a parent, and we were both scared of his dad, and we both fuckin' hated our lives." Max was silent for a few seconds, the only sound the crunching of leaves under their feet. "And he cared about me, he tried to protect me, in his own fucked up, sick way. He was toxic. And a shitty person. But he cared. He was the first person that did that in a while."

Max bit her lip. "And, I know he was terrible. He tried to kill Lucas because he was black, and that one time he thought Will was queer, I thought he'd pop his jaw out of place." Her face twitched and El could tell it was a difficult topic for her. "He was shitty. And he scared me sometimes. But—I don't know, I didn't think he meant shit to me until he died. I didn't think I would care if he died until I found out he was the one possessed. It just . . . he was such a big part of my life, rotten and all, that without him there it feels hollow. Like someone took my tooth."

"Oh." El frowned. "That hurts."

"Is this about Hopper?"

"I miss him."

"Yeah, me too. Me too."

The cabin started to appear ahead, and the weight of what was going to happen settled. They were going to find out who Winter was, who he was before. Or was it after? During? He didn't know, and neither did they. What if he was a Russian spy at the time? Or what if they couldn't figure out who he was?

What if he didn't exist? Or what if he did exist, and they figured out who he was? He was still the Winter Soldier, identity or not. He still belonged to "them." He said his handlers wouldn't rest until they found him.

What if they did find him? What would they do? They couldn't protect him.

"Hey, El, calm down." Max walked up onto the porch, leading the way. "It's okay. This'll work."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"It will." She shrugged. "And if it doesn't? We'll find another way."

"Another way," El said, walking in front of her to head into the cabin.

For the first time, Winter's gun wasn't in its holster. It sat beside him on the couch. The grenade was still holstered, but it was a step.

"Hi," she greeted, to which she received a glance. At least it wasn't hostile, which was a nice greeting.

"Hey," Max chirped, seeming comfortable in the situation. "I brought the clippings and everything. Even a few journals of his and two photobooks he has. Maybe we'll recognize him from a photo?"

"But he's not old," El pointed out. "Your grandpa's old."

"Oh . . . you're right. Maybe he was a kid at the time? My grandpa told me about how sometimes there were kids on the bases. I can't remember why, though, visiting maybe? But he could've been eighteen at the time. Or younger, my grandpa's brother lied on his entry."

El didn't reply, only taking a box and sitting one on the couch a few feet from Winter. Max sat the other two down on the floor in front of him, while El sat the bag adjacent from it. He paid the bag no attention.

El sat down on the floor, Max beside her, and they each took a box, while he hesitantly opened his.

"It won't bite," Max joked, which didn't seem to ease his nerves. El forgot to tell her that he didn't think jokes were funny, only one that El made about her being sad.

"What are we looking for?" El asked. "A picture?"

"Anything, really. Just anything that stands out, maybe anything that mentions a kid? Or a really, really young teenager?"

"Wait, do you know what you looked like?" Max asked, which made Winter falter. "What you look like _now_?" She looked over to El. "Didn't you give him a mirror or something?"

"No, there's one in the bathroom."

Max frowned at that. "Okay, well, that makes things a lot harder. Let's just . . . try our best to find something."

After ten minutes of silence, aside from the sound of bugs outside and the flipping of pages, Max let out a gasp, paired with a loud 'smack' as she slapped her hand over her mouth.

Winter startled, nearly reaching for his gun, but one look from El made him stop.

"Did you find something?"

"I know why he looked familiar!" Max combed a hand through her hair. "When we first saw him, I thought he looked familiar, but I brushed it off as maybe I saw him around the mall maybe? Or Hawkins? Maybe even the Lab? I didn't know, but it was just a little thing, so I didn't think much of it. But since the whole 'Captain America' thing, I thought he looked more familiar, and I thought it was because maybe he looked similar as a kid." She tugged at the ends of her hair. "I'm such an idiot!"

El's nose wrinkled. "Did you find him?"

Max turned the newspaper clipping around so both El and Winter could see it.

 _James Buchanan Barnes Dies in Combat. Funeral Held in Brooklyn, Hundreds Attend_.

And there, right below, was Winter. A bit younger, no facial hair, and shorter hair, but it was him. Undoubtedly him. _In the forties_.

"This—this is impossible!" Max couldn't believe it. "This was taken forty years ago! He'd be, like, eighty by now! And he's _dead_! My grandpa literally saw him die!"

"Stop yelling," Winter ground out, speaking for the first time that day. He stared at the photo before looking away, like the photo hurt to look at. "They freeze me. Cryo."

" _Cryo_?" El asked.

"It's that ice thing Howard Stark created," Max said. "It can keep something alive for months without any time passing for the thing inside." She looked like she couldn't believe the possibility. "It doesn't make any sense. Howard Stark and James Barnes were friends, why would he sell something to keep his friend like this?"

Winter's eyebrows furrowed at that and Max winced. "Sorry, but you get what I'm saying. This doesn't make any sense. How did Russia get you if you died? And how did they get the technology? It didn't come out until a few years ago, and you'd be older."

It seemed like this was making Max's brain implode.

"Howard?" Winter said, his lip twitching. "I . . . I know that name. I think I knew him."

"You did," Max said, "you were friends. And you were friends with my grandpa. And Steve Rogers— _Captain America_."

Winter stiffened at that. "...Steve?"

"Yeah, Steve, do you remember him?"

El frantically shook her head, grabbing Max's arm, which she quickly shook off.

"He—he died. He's dead." Winter was starting to get agitated. "He didn't come for me. He _left me_."

El quickly stood, standing between Max and Winter, her arm outstretched defensively towards him. "Calm down."

"He . . . he left me. He didn't come back!"

"He didn't," El confirmed, making his eyebrows pinch together. "But you are here. Alive. You made it. No more handlers. No more Soldier."

It seemed to calm him down, enough for him to stare at the discarded clipping on the ground like it had punched him square in the jaw.

Winter's name was James Buchanan Barnes. And he was from the forties, who spent years trapped in a 'cryo.' He was also the Winter Soldier, who killed people. And he was also Winter?

El didn't know who he was, and she knew he didn't, either.

She wanted to help him find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, now they know who winter is? or kinda? anyway, more of the plot is developing, so i hope this isn't as boring as it was before


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new people meet winter, and he remembers why he got away

El hadn't expected her Monday to go this way. She expected to visit Winter, talk to him, possibly learn more about him, and that would be all. Maybe eat a dinner nicer than the TV dinners Joyce had, but that was unlikely.

Except she was here, with Steve and Robin staring at her, clearly unamused. It wasn't that she didn't know them, but she barely knew them. Even though Steve was practically a brother to Dustin, she'd only met him a few times, most centering around near-death occasions. With that, she'd only met Robin three times, neither under good circumstances.

She looked over to Max. "You told them?"

"Actually, Dustin did," Max said sheepishly. "And then Steve asked me if it was true, and I said no, but he didn't believe me. So then he told Robin. And . . . now we're here." 

Ten minutes from the cabin, where Winter was. Winter would _lose it_ if any more people came, especially Steve and Robin. Children seemed to be easier for him, she doubted they would be the same for him.

"No," El objected. "You can't. He won't let you."

"I've seen Russians with a bone saw," Steve said, going to step past her, "a guy with a grenade isn't that bad."

"He'll kill you," she quickly said, grabbing his arm. She didn't know if it was true, but even Winter had expressed his worry on what he would do to someone he didn't know. "Don't."

Steve looked to Max. "Okay, what did you make Dustin leave out? Who is this guy? He isn't like Alexei, is he?"

Max squirmed. "Okay, maybe not. But, but! It's not like I could just tell you, it's a lot to lay on someone."

"What, is he an assassin?" Robin said with a snort, rolling her eyes.

"Yes," El stated, making Robin's eyes go wide. "Lethal. Two dozen body count."

Robin groaned. "I'm guessing body count isn't what I'm thinking, is it?"

"So," Steve said, ignoring Robin's confusing joke, "what do we do? Because, no offense, I'm not letting you two go alone."

Max cocked her hip to the side and crossed her arms. "And why not? He likes us."

"He likes me," El pointed out.

"Okay, he likes _her_."

"Because I'm making sure this guy isn't gonna pull out a bone saw and rip out your fingernail."

El looked to the cabin in the distance. "He has not yanked it yet."

"Oh my—that's not the point. It's that we have no idea who this guy is." Steve pointed a finger at her. "Do you know who he is? Besides 'Winter'?"

"Yes," she answered. "His name is James. But he doesn't like that name, he likes Winter."

He seemed surprised by that. "James? Did he tell you that? How can you believe it?"

"We found his picture," Max explained. "Look, we'll take you there, but don't do anything stupid, and _don't_ bring up the Russians. It's a sore subject. And, I know you'll recognize him, so don't freak out. Then he'll blow us all up."

Robin was confused. "Did he live here? Oh my God, is this another monster thing? I swear, if I see one more slimy thing, I will leave _all_ of you."

"No, just—it's hard to explain. Just take my word for it, you learned about him in high school."

That didn't seem to ease their minds, but it gave them enough to follow them towards the cabin, where El reached the door first.

"We brought friends," she said, casting a harsh look over her shoulder. "It's okay. They're the ones I told you about."

He appeared on the side of the porch, dropping from somewhere above, making Steve and Robin jump into each other. "...Mike?"

"No, this is Steve," El said. "The one I told you about. The one with the bat."

"The stupid one," he said, making Steve let out an offended sound. "And the clueless girl."

"Yes, this is them."

Winter's shoulders lost their tenseness at that. "Did you bring food?"

"Applesauce and a sandwich," Max chirped, holding back her excitement when Winter took it from her. "It should be pretty light. Or is it too light?"

"It's sufficient," Winter said. "Thank you."

He tucked a stand of hair behind his ear and took a bite of his sandwich. Robin whispered something before softly gasping.

"It's the sniper," she whispered to El, and El knew he heard it. "The one in the second war. _Bucky Barnes_ , that's him."

Steve gasped, too. "Oh my God, it is. How is he—how—"

"We don't know," Max said. "And stop, you're scaring him."

"He doesn't scare me," Winter stated. "He's scared."

"No," Steve objected, "I've faced worse."

Winter's eyebrows raised and he went back to his sandwich, letting out a 'hm' in response. El smiled. He was starting to get more comfortable, comfortable enough to allow her to bring people she'd rambled to him about, comfortable enough to not hurt them.

El's heart constricted as she wondered how long he would stay. She knew, deep down, he couldn't stay here forever. But she wanted him to. Winter was her friend, and he understood her. He understood her unlike anyone else. No one else understood why she missed her cell sometimes, even though it brought back all the terrible memories, or why sometimes being outside was entirely too much and left her overstimulated.

Why did no one understand? And why did the one person who did have to leave?

El blinked rapidly, horrified that she was about to cry. She hadn't _thought_ he meant that much to her, but maybe he did. As he gave a look to her, questioningly to make sure she was okay, she knew he did mean something to her.

"Uh, why does he have a metal arm?" Steve whispered. "Is that just a cool thing _or?_ "

"I lost my arm," Winter stated, blankly. "I was given a metal one, sufficient enough to do the job."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense."

"Do you speak Russian?" Robin asked.

Winter spoke, speaking something El couldn't understand, but she knew was Russian. He spoke Russian often, she enjoyed hearing it.

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Seven fluently," he said, putting the trash into the Ziploc bag and into the book bag. 

" _Seven_ ," Robin whispered to herself. "That's . . . that's incredible."

"It's standard," Winter said, handing the bag to El. 

"I used to speak Russian." El gripped her wrist nervously. "To spy better. But not anymore."

By Max's look, Max must have forgot she spied on people. It was funny, everyone seemed to forget that. But that was what El was born for, how could they forget? She didn't. She never forgot.

Suddenly, Winter stiffened, his back going ram rod straight as he un-holstered his gun. In one swift, lightning-fast move, he turned to the side with one arm out, pointing his gun into the woods.

"Someone's there," he stated. "Someone's in the woods. A child."

" _Lucas!_ " Max called out, storming over to the edge of the porch to lean against the railing, somehow knowing it was them. "Come on out, you shitheads! I know you're out there!" Nothing. "I will let him shoot you, I swear to God!"

Four boys came spilling out of the woods, tripping over each other in their haste. Lucas looked thoroughly terrified, while Max looked seethingly angry.

"What did I tell you about following me?" She crossed her arms. "What did I say, Lucas?"

"Don't do it, it's rude and creepy." After a pointed look, he continued with a sigh. "And you'll punch me in the face."

"Exactly." Max looked over to Winter, who was uncomfortable with so many people, even if the four boys were standing down below the steps. "What are you guys doing here? I thought you had that board game or whatever?"

"Dungeons and Dragons," Dustin corrected. "And no, that was a lie. We just wanted to follow you."

Mike elbowed him in the side, worryingly looking over to El. "No, no, that's not what we were trying to do. We thought he had left, so we thought you might be in danger."

Max went to argue, but El cast a look to Winter and stepped forward. No one had ever seen El look angry, but at the moment, she looked as furious as she could be. 

"Why?" she asked, rhetorically. "You're the one who needs help, all of the time. I never need help from you. I nee help _for_ you. You couldn't help me." She huffed. "And Winter isn't dangerous to us. He won't hurt Max and me."

Mike looked like she'd shattered his heart, but he continued. "What about Steve and Robin? Would he hurt them?"

"Not if I'm here," El said. "He listens to me and I listen to him." She looked over to Winter before looking back to Mike. "And he doesn't want you here."

Mike's eyes went wide.

"Go, Mike."

"Elev—"

"It is El," she said. "Leave, Mike. Please."

He left into the woods, head downcast, and Will lingered longer than the others, and almost said something, but decided against it and dashed after them into the woods.

El surprised herself by punching the railing, splitting her knuckles open on the wood. 

"Shit, El," Max said, picking her hand up quickly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." She pulled her hand out of the girl's grip and turned to Winter, who was standing against the wall, seeming like he was trying to disappear. "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was coming."

"It's okay." He blinked. "I have something to tell you."

She nodded. "Alone?"

He glanced nervously around but shook his head too-quick, his greasy hair sticking together. "No, I--I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"Why I got away." He closed his eyes. "They never let me get away, but they did this time. Because they wanted me to find someone . . . the key."

Her eyebrows pinched together. "The key?"

"The boy who can link the worlds. His name--their name was Will. Will Byers."

El couldn't breathe.

"Headquarters exploded before I could bring intel back. The mission--I think the mission is meant to go on while they search for me."

"So you'll keep looking for him?" She shook her head softly. "No, I will not let them find you. I'll protect you."

Winter only blinked. "I don't need to be protected from my handlers--you do."

**Author's Note:**

> i hope y'all enjoy this!! it's gonna be a couple chapters (no idea how long)


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